EPISODE IVDescent into Depths: No Hope It is a dark time for the adventurersDiD3 got really confusing and diedBut Moth has taken the reignsAnd a new band has formedAnd Greg Vrill's lowest statis Presence once again..._________________Take a page out of the Unicorn Bible and dance all night by the Light of the Dragon's flame. -Champions of Breakfast

Last edited by JimmySwill on Tue Aug 31, 2010 10:12 am; edited 1 time in total

That is an interesting idea, Raistlin. However, maybe this is less like a Beckett play or a soul-crushing module, and more like one of those indie diceless story-telling RPGs. Maybe my backpack represents a manifestation of my Chancel and it is full of Miracle Points and stuff.

Yeah, I spend some Miracle Points to make that apple a greasy deviled egg with too muck paprika. As a result, I do believe that the realm vibrates in a harmonious manner.

But, to be honest Raistlin, I'd much rather fight an orc and take his treasure."

Excellent. I am off to Norway for a week. I will try to keep Nitch in the loop, but it might be sporadic. See you at the fjord, Vrill._________________Take a page out of the Unicorn Bible and dance all night by the Light of the Dragon's flame. -Champions of Breakfast

You awaken to the sound of cracking ice. Your vision is still blurry, but you can tell you aren't alone. The room you are in is very cold. The lighting is soft, and all around there are human figures, standing still.

Your eyes finally focus. Your frozen body has apparently been made part of a tableau of frozen bodies. All around you are people posed in fancy clothes. They are all dead and have little icicles hanging off of them in various places. Hovering near the ceiling in each corner is a glowglobe- very expensive inventions of the Opticians Guild.

The scene you are in depicts two well dressed young men, swords and daggers in hand, about to engage in mortal combat. Around them, friends and family members are gathered, eagerly awaiting the outcome. Foremost is a young lady, weeping and holding a handkerchief. Whoever did the detailing on her tears did a pretty good job. Next to her is an imposing man in a frock coat, looking on impassively. He's probably her father. You're standing pretty close to them, maybe you're supposed to be her scheming uncle or something?

The chamber is roughly square, with the southwest corner being convex. There is a door on the rounded section of wall.

How high is the ceiling? If I can reach the glowglobe, I'm taking the little bastard. If I have to, uh, clilmb up one of the 'statues' to get it, so be it. If it's some jinky floating thing, I'll take a shirt outta my pack and net the thing with it if I can.

...

Wish I had that Sense Magic about now. Damn, well, Magic Acuity check? On the people and their stuff. Here's my roll: 14 + 2 = 16! Not bad. Can I grab a sword or the handkerchief?

World Knowledge on 'em. Dress, famous faces, time period, ethnicity, all that jazz. Check is 4 + 2 = 6. Huh.

These frozen people got needle marks too? I'm guessing, no needles in this place, like discarded or the floor or such?

You can get the handkerchief easily- a thing layer of rime gives way and it's yours.

The sword is going to be another matter altogether- give me a Strength check for that.

Nice History Roll. They all look like rich nobles from Myrinae. You don't know anything more specific than that.

No discarded needles, and no, none of these other people have marks on their arms.

You draw your crossbow and peep outside quickly. There is a circular chamber outside, with a fountain in the middle. The fountain has a huge glowglobe on top. There is a man sitting on the edge of the fountain. He's wearing a slim fitting, violet colored pinstripe suit. He's waring skintight leather gloves, and he's reading a book. You notice that his eyes are made of silver- Optician's Guild work. There are a lot of legends about these eyes- that they can see through walls, that they can record anything one sees, shoot lasers, and stranger stories. You have no idea what they really do.

You awaken to the sound of cracking ice. Your vision comes into focus. You are in a tableau of frozen dead bodies, covered in ice. It appears to be a trial scene. What's more, you are the judge! You are holding your maul up like a gavel, about to bring it down and seal the condemned man's fate.

You feel faint, sickly warmth inside, coursing through your veins. You have needle marks on your right arm.

There are a lot of people here. There's an audience, a jury, a bailiff, a prosecutor, a defense attorney, and a defendant. The defense attorney appears to be a gnome.

The room is lit by glowglobes. There is a door in the southeastern corner.

"Ach, Ah mest be strai't troattered," says Dutch, rubbing at his eyes. He'd awoken in many a strange place before, head pounding, memories blurred, so he does not find these circumstances to be at all disturbing.

Dutch climbs down from the judge's seat and examines the gathered people more closely.

Are any of them recognizable, or doing or holding anything of interest?

Parched, he removes an icicle from a man's face and eats it, before proceeding around the room to test the soundness of various limbs with a series of sharp tugs.

His circuitous journey eventually ends in front of the most wee of them all.